TokiKlok
by Zandoz
Summary: Foray into Toki's abusive childhood. Judy Explosion takes Toki home to meet her mom. Not for the faint of heart as it deals with deep psychological issues, with a hearty helping of violence and mayhem. And, Toki may be a dad? Dethklok fan fic metalocalyps
1. Chapter 1

Toki walked along the mazelike halls of Mordhaus, humming cheerfully and heading for the room where Judy Explosion stayed when she visited. He poked his head in her room to find her packing her bags and suitcases. "Judys, where you goings?," he asked in alarm.

"I'm going to visit my Mom, silly," she tells him. "I told you the other day, remember? I haven't seen her for a while, what with college and working on Planet Piss with Murderface." At his downtrodden expression she asks him if he would like to come.

"Wowee! You wants me to meet your Moms?," he was ecstatic. He hated when she was away. "I go get packeds!," he rushed to his own room, began grabbing bags and clothes. Oh, can't forget Deddy Bear! Then he stopped...he'd meet Judy's mother and he didn't know if she would like him. He wouldn't know how to behave, and fuck, his own parents had hated him. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea...

"Are ya ready, Tokipants?," came the girl's southern drawl. "The limo's ready."

He jumped, startled, and tried to think of some reason why he suddenly couldn't go...saw her watching him expectantly, dressed in conservative sweater and skirt and looking positively hawt nonetheless. Her thick ebony hair was tied in a ponytail and green eyes lit up with warmth when she saw him. "Uh--uh, jah, almost dones," he said. Damn, he couldn't do it after she'd invited him so nicely. Plus, he was curious. Curious how 'regular people' families behaved. He was sure nobody ever chained bubbly, spunky Judy in a dank basement for days at a time.

The girl said good-bye to her father and the rest of the boys, Ofdensen lingering with his arms around her after their good-bye hug of course, and Murderface pouting because he wanted to hurry and finish the new Planet Piss cd. Nathan's sometime girlfriend/Ofdensen's assistant Katrina cooed over her and hugged her, telling her to be careful on her trip.

The rhythm guitarist was uncharacteristically silent during the ride to the airport, his cherubic face troubled. "Uh, Toki? Is something wrong?," Judy asked gently. This wasn't like him, he was normally full of chatter and mirth.

"Oh, wells," Toki stammers. "Do you thinks your Moms will likes me?"

"O'course she will! She'll love you!," Judy assures him. "She'll wanna take time off work and feed you some good cookin' like meatloaf and corn bread and green beans. And she'll have a good time cause you're funny."

"What if I do's somethings stupid? I always doings somethings wrong."

"Relax, Toki! Just be yourself," she took his hand and squeezed it in reassurance. "I've never seen you this nervous before."

"Is this corns breads in the shapes of a corn?," he asked, forcing himself to smile.

"Haha, no it's made out of ground corn, you know, cornmeal. It's better than pickled herring, that's fer sure!," she teased him.

"No ways, that's the best," he teases back, but his heart wasn't in it.

He thought about his childhood, of going without food for days at a stretch as punishment for some real or imagined wrongdoing. It seems he was punished simply for existing, everything he did and liked was wrong and sinful, his very existence a mistake. Aslaug, his father, was a fanatical Christian priest in a country that was mostly indifferent to Jesus at best, believing in trolls, elves and dwarves at worst. Anja, his mother, had been a devoted nun in a puritanical nunnery. She'd balked at the treatment of the young maidens, forcing them to sleep on boards and throw themselves naked in the snow for having impure thoughts, and one night the young Anja ran away.

She had no knowledge of the outside world, really, and was terrified of cities, so she headed for a church some miles away for succor. Aslaug Wartooth was the pastor of that church, and he was locking it up for the night when he saw a bedraggled, tear-faced nun on the doorstep babbling incoherently. She collapsed in his arms, feet bleeding from walking several miles in her indoor nun's slippers. Aslaug helped the wretch inside. When she calmed down she begged his help, offered to work for him or the church, and took off her nun's habit to wipe her face. A cascade of thick, light brown hair fell to her waist.

Toki Wartooth was concieved that night, that dreadful, sinful mistake. The pair would be the laughingstock of the whole community, having flouted their high morals and spartan lifestyle that they preached at everyone. Worse, they were damned to Hell for all eternity for giving in to the sin of the flesh. The reverend and former nun quickly married, discovering they didn't hate each other, but they surely didn't love each other, either. It was the only way, they reasoned, they could make things right. Perhap's it was God's will that they should meet and produce a child.

Then little Toki arrived and grew into a bright, artistic, energetic child. A heathen, Satan-loving, ungrateful, disobediant, sinful child, in their eyes. Would their misfortunes never cease! He was utterly disinterested in the religious drabble they tried to pound into him, and pound it turned out to be as both mother and father lost their patience time and again with their adorable and intractable demon child. Anja secretly wondered if Aslaug was Lucifer himself, sent to seduce the good and innocent, and she looked at Toki's round face and big, dark blue eyes and hair like her own, so darling, so very full of evil! She took every opportunity to strike that innocent face, leaving welts and bruises in her wake.

Toki grew his hair long, wore rock band t-shirts, skipped school at every chance, and somehow got hold of a guitar, an instrument of the Devil, by the time he was 12. Every day brought new agony and ecstasy as he taught himself to play and enduring being ritually scourged by his father for his sins. He found he could go six days without food, hanging in his family's basement, talking to the rats. But he endured.

The limo came to a stop; they were at the airport. "C'mon, Toki, time to hop the plane!," Judy said.


	2. In the Air

Toki couldn't see why they couldn't have taken the Dethcopter straight there and brought this up to Judy as they stood in line at the airport counter. She much preferred the anonymity of taking 'normal' transportation. Thanks to her mother she was a little more down-to-earth than the members of Dethklok. She soon wondered if it was such a good idea as dozens of fliers kept asking if that was indeed Toki Wartooth, and excitement started spreading all over the airport. "Here, put this on," Judy told him before they began boarding.

Toki boarded the commercial jet with a woman's sunhat and purple sunglasses on. Even he knew he looked ridiculous, but it evidently worked. They had no more incidents. He was still pouty as the plane was taxiing down the runway. "Ohh, come on," the girl poked at him. "Hey, I got somethin for ya!," she pulled from her carry-on a big bag of candy and shook it at him. He tried ignoring her but it lasted all of 9 seconds before he was tearing into it happily. "Mom's gonna meet us at the airport and pick us up."

"You sures she won't minds me coming?," Toki asked her, his mouth full of candy.

"No, she loves visitors. She'll be pleasantly surprised."

"Do's those guys always follows you arounds?," He referred to the two suit-dressed burly fellows who were never more than a few feet away.

"Some o' Off's work, that," she responded. "Always has someone guardin' me either coming to or going from Mordhaus."

The guitarist fell silent, watching the ground rolling along under them. Houses looked like toys down there.

He thought about his model airplanes, and when he took it up as a child it was one of the lesser bad things he did, but an annoyance nonetheless. Aslaug smashed them when the mood hit him. It merely provided the boy with an excuse to make more. He kept his battered old guitar hidden and played it while his parents were asleep. Toki couldn't help what he was exactly as he couldn't help being born, and music became his life, his passion.

"Cans I gets some alcohols?," Toki whispers to his companion. "I really needs a drink."

"Sure can. Just don't overdo it, ok? Ask one of those stewardesses to bring you something." Judy was growing bewildered by Toki's behavior. Maybe he didn't like flying on jets.

After a few shots of whiskey he relaxed a bit, feeling the warm sensation spreading out from his belly. Still wearing the sunhat he peers around the cabin, observing all the people in his field of vision. Mostly singles, a few friends sitting near each other, a few couples. A few mothers with their children, most of them thankfully well-behaved, but one little boy who loudly complained about everything and his harried mother kept constantly trying to shush him. They were a few rows down from Judy and Toki, close enough for Judy to frown and ask for a magazine to read. The kid had to go to the bathroom. He was hungry. He was bored. He hated sitting there.

Toki snuck another drink while Judy was in the toilet and settled into his seat, smiling. If his parents were here they'd shut that boy up, he thought. He usually caught the back of a hand to the face if he talked out of turn. When he was allowed at the table he ate in silence, eating his coarse bread and thin soup with a typical kid's gusto, snatching glances at the stern figures of his parents when he thought they weren't looking. One time when he'd memorized a passage in the Bible and recited it perfectly Anja smiled, and he laughed, pleased he'd done something right. He bounced into her arms and she instinctively hugged him, her bony arms wrapped around his little body. It felt so wonderful, he thought. Then reality crept back, rested on top of the woman's shoulders, reminding her of the hell that little beast put her through and shall continue to do so. He was Satan's handiwork, no matter how beautiful he was, no matter that he looked like she did as child, no matter that he was her only son.

She thrust him from her, her face an expressionless mask again after stiffly telling him he'd done well. Confused and hurt he obeyed her order and went to draw water from the well. Toki didn't understand his mother and father's inexplicable behavior, and grew up with the suspicion he'd never understand the world in general.

Aslaug discovered the old guitar Toki had hidden while searching for some papers. He brought it out and stared at it, surprised that the seemingly simple-minded boy had managed to keep something from him for so long. The boy was currently at that dratted public school, which was probably where he got such dangerous ideas from. They were even teaching the young ones English, he supposed, to better facilitate the Norwegians' spiralling into sin and decadence. If there was ever a modern Sodom and Gomorrah it was America, sure enough. Well, maybe they should look into homeschooling the little heathen.

But first, there was the issue of this blasted guitar. Aslaug went to the kitchen and sat down, the instrument laying across his knees, and waited. His angular, lined face betrayed no emotion, his blue eyes blinking only rarely. He was in that same position when 13 year old Toki came home from school, searching for his parents. He entered the kitchen and beheld a long-feared scene, his father clutching his guitar. "Your mother," he informed the boy, "is upstairs praying, begging forgiveness for her sins and mine, which has been transferred to you. Sins of the father," he mumbled, almost to himself. "What is the meaning of this? This devilry?"

"Father, it's a guitar. The music store clerk gave it to me. It's not bad, it makes me feel good! Father--"

"Silence!," he roared, standing. "It is a temptation set before you, and you failed! We failed, you failed, and you'll burn in Hell, child! That music, if you can call it that, is rife with violence, lust and decadence!" He shook the instrument at him. "Would that I had more self-control," he went on. "I would be a revered man of God in a big-city church, and not here in this ragged hole trifling with you!"

Toki began to cry, wounded by the words uttered in bitterness and frustration.

"Well," the man stated. "The first thing to do is remove the temptation." Aslaug stepped toward the lad.

"No! Father, no!," Toki cried in panic. The tall, strong man pulled the boy with him with one hand, the guitar grasped in the other, dragging them both to the barn. He tossed the guitar on a small pile of hay and produced a box of matches. "Now we will burn it together, and seek remission of our wrongdoings," Aslaug told him.

"Please, Father, please!," Toki sobbed as he'd never sobbed over his own hide. His father wrenched his arm and forced him down on his knees. The boy's dark blue eyes watched as his love went up in flames. At that moment something in him snapped--no, he didn't attack his father or run away at that time, but something in him changed. He had half-believed the cruel, awful things his parents told him, and had assumed he deserved such ill treatment.

Not any longer. Now he was simply biding his time. His heart told him that he would have to leave his parents' home, leave this place, perhaps even leave Norway altogether before he could be happy and be himself. His eyes stopped their flowing and didn't tear up again, even after he was bodily dragged to the basement and subjected to the whips again. Aslaug tore the t-shirt from the lad's back and let loose, decorating Toki's back with welts. A few more blows and it began breaking skin. A few more still and his back was ribboned in scarlet. Toki bit his lip, no he wouldn't cry, he wouldn't, AH GOD the pain, please make it stop--

Toki awoke in his airplane seat screaming, flailing his arms. "Toki, wake up!," came Judy's worried voice. "Toki!"

His eyes finally cleared and he seemed to register her beside him. "Sorries, " he apologizes meekly. "I hads a bad dreams."


	3. DethBurden

"You don't haveta meet Mom now if you don't want to," she held his hand. "You're acting awfully strange, Toki."

"Judys, there's someting I not tells you. Abouts my life."

"Awww...you're secretly married, ain't ya?," she babbled. "God, I shoulda known better, how could I--"

"No's! That's not it. I...uhh...didn'ts have a normal childhood," he almost whispers. "My mother and father...ahhh...I means--"

"It's all right, I'm here for you. Just tell me."

He studied her a moment, then twisted around in his seat to face away from her, and pulled his shirt up. "You ever notices these?," he asked. She'd seen the faint scars and marks on his back before, when they would chill in the hot tub and then later when they became more intimate, so she nodded. "My fathers did zis to me. With a traditionals scourge."

Judy gasped, her hand going to her mouth in shock. "Oh, Toki honey," she managed to get out. "I'm very sorry. I didn't know."

"Nobodies does. Reallys nobody business," he turned back to her, eyes down.

"You wanna tell me about it?," she asked him gently.

"Mmm, nopes. Not yets anyway. Hey serving wench!," he calls to a stewardess. "I woulds like more drink, please."

"Nathan," came Katrina's voice, cutting through the soft, comfy blanket of haze surrounding his brain. He was reading a book on hunting accidents in Minnesota, reading glasses perched haphazardly halfway down his nose. "Nathan."

"Hm, yeah?," he finally glanced up to see Katrina standing over him expectantly. She was dressed casually which meant she wasn't following Off around at the moment.

"I'm gonna tell you something, but first you have to promise not to run away."

"Why would I run away?," he asked innocently. He looked rather fatherly with those glasses on and book in hand. Well, in a sort of metal, scruffy way.

"Nathan," she warns. "Just promise."

He sighed, then he promised.

"My son Sam is coming to visit, and he wants to meet you," she announces. "It would be nice if you didn't run away this time."

The singer rolled his emerald eyes and muttered, "Why can't he come when he can play with Judy and Toki?"

"He hung out with Judy last time since you magically vanished," she noted, voice dropping a note or two in aggravation. "I thought you'd like to do boyfriend girlfriend stuff, Mr. Homebody. I like your daughter."

"All right, all right, Jeez," he threw down the book. "See, this is why I didn't have girlfriends," he snorts.

She leaned toward him, showing some cleavage and smirking. "You can get into some shenanigans later. With me," she sat in his lap, wrapping her long arms around his neck.

"Aw, Jeeschie, everytime I walk into a room somebody's makin out or gropin' each other," stated Murderface, who'd wandered into the room.

"Then go fuck off, Murderface."

The frizzy-haired bassist gave him the middle finger. "You don't know me. I go where I want!"

"God, you've been watching those talk shows again, haven't ya?," Nathan asks.

And so, Nathan was sitting in the rec room when Katrina brought a tall, slim ten year old boy with her. He was sporting a red mohawk and a Dethklok t-shirt, and was excited about meeting Nathan Explosion. "Nathan, this is my son Sam. Sam, meet Nathan Explosion."

"Oh wow, hi!," the boy burbles.

"Hi," Nathan responds, eyeballing the kid like he was a new and potentially dangerous new animal.

"Whatcha doin?," Sam asks him.

"Watching some tv. Was checkin out these videos of people in terrible car crashes."

The boy sits beside the big frontman and witnesses a car careening into a police car and wiping out three passersby. "Awesome," Sam said.

This goes on for a few minutes until Murderface pops up again. "Turn it on Jerry Shpringer," he lisps, slouching on the end of the couch. Grumbling, Nathan complies, and cries of "Jerry, Jerry, Jerry!," immediately assaulted their ears.

"Holy crap, you're Murderface!," the child with the scarlet mohawk hollers. Katrina smiled and sat in an easy chair.

"Uh, yeah, Captain Obvious," snorted Murderface. "Any other obshervations?"

"Yeah, you're a dick!," Sam replies cheerily.

"Well, that'sh kinda rude. You jusht met me," he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I wanna be a dick like you. You're cool!"

"Huh. Do tell. I shuppose I could teatch you..."

Ofdensen entered the room, making eye contact with Katrina. "Ah, there you are, Katrina. I was looking for you. There's some important things that demand my attention, I was wondering if you could oversee things here for a while."

"Oh, Charles, my son is visiting! Can't it wait?"

"Is that him? Cute kid," Ofdensen snatches a glance at the boy. "I'm sorry, there's so much to do today and I can't be two places at once. Please? You could take the rest of the week off to be with your son."

She sighed. "Oh, all right. I have your word."

"I always keep my word," he said, in his usual poker face. They both knew he'd made it worth her while to abandon her artist's job to work for Dethklok. When she saw the number of zeroes in her check she almost fainted. Sam's college fund was assured, and she needn't ask for money for any reason from her jerk ex-husband.

"Um, Sam, Nathan. I got to go, I'm filling in for Charles for a while. I know, I know," she said at her son's disappointed expression. "But I'll have the rest of the week to spend with you. Hey, you guys take care of him while I'm away. Got it?"

Both men rolled their eyes and agreed.


	4. Mama I'm Comin Home

Chapter 4: Mama I'm Comin Home

A petite, smartly dressed blonde was waving and jumping up and down as they exited the plane. "Mom!," Judy cried happily, running to the lady. They hugged and laughed until they were breathless, then the woman noticed Toki.

"Hello there," she hailed him. "You didn't tell me you was bringing somebody with you."

"Yeah Mom, this is Toki. I told you about him, remember?"

"Ohh! Yes, pleased ta meet you," she smiled brightly at the Norwegian. He could still see the vivavious cheerleader she used to be in the trim thirtysomething woman in skirt and heels. She was blonde, blue-eyed, with a tiny little nose and heart-shaped face, with a bit of grey at the temples. He could see a resemblence between mother and daughter, after all, even though the young woman was an Amazon standing next to her mother. She got her stature and build from Nathan, that was apparent.

"Nice to meets you, toos, Ms. Evans," Toki said awkwardly.

"Call me Betty, sugar," she tells him. "Or you can call me 'Mom', since all Judy talks about is you!"

The two females chatted eagerly on the drive back to their home, Betty remarking how much she'd missed Judy and how proud she was of her accomplishments. Toki was a bit touched that she was including him in the conversation and had invited him to call her Mom after just meeting her.

"We'll have to break out the good china," Judy's mother states. "And he can sleep in the extra bedroom. Then there's supper tonight..."

"You don't has to gives a whole rooms to me," offers Toki. "I can sleeps on couch, or wif Judys. I's fine."

"You are NOT sleeping with Judy, my friend, " she declares. "We'll have no hanky-panky in the house. And you're not sleepin' on the couch, you're a guest. So that's that."

"Why can'ts I just sleeps wif you?," he asked innocently in a whisper.

"Are you kiddin me?," Judy hissed back. "Teenage pregnancy or not, she's old-fashioned; no shacking up, no sleeping with members of the opposite sex in the same bed. She thinks too much leniency got her in trouble." She observed her companion with a bit of awe--he would remain innocent no matter what happened to him or what he did in life. He honestly didn't understand what the problem was, just like he didn't see the problem with getting in a hot tub naked with his bandmates or with ladies, or her, for that matter. Just like he didn't understand 'nosebleed' was different from 'blowjob' and a codpiece was different from a strap-on dildo, or how he had no sorrow about inadvertantly causing the death of the lead singer of a Christian rock band.

Just like he beat a man within an inch of his life with his bare hands, then could turn around and happily sign autographs and take pictures with children. Nothing seemed to stain him. She shook her head; it was like he was from another planet, sometimes.

"...and we can go fishing, too!," Betty was saying, mostly to herself. "So," she said, changing her tone. "How's your father?"

"He's doing good, been writing songs for a new album. Didn't want me to go, seemed to me."

"Well, I'm glad he loves ya. You two are so much alike."

Judy knew she wanted to bring up Katrina, and was just waiting for her to do it.

"So he's...happy? Seeing somebody?"

"Yeah, mom, you know that," the girl rolled her eyes. "Katrina Tate. I like her. She's pretty cool."

"I should hope she's better than that stick-whore Rebecca Nightrod character," the woman sniffs.

"Mom, you act like you're jealous."

"I am NOT," she protests. "I worry about him. His lifestyle and all."

"Don't start. He can take care of himself. God, I'm starvin'! I can't wait for some down-home cookin!"

"Don't they feed ya while your there?," snickered Betty.

"Their master chef, Jean-Pierre, is a great cook. He just fixes that crazy French stuff a lot, haha."

"Who's this kid?," Skwisgaar asked, guitar in hand as per usual.

"This is Katrina's son, Sam," answered Nathan.

"Whoa, Skwisgaar!," the lad beams. "Play something for me!"

He did some lightning fast riffs, then went to the couch to sit with them. "So whats, are we likes babysitting now?"

"I'm not a baby!," interjected Sam. "We're like..hanging out. Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!," he chanted with the television show.

"I guessh Katrina's coming back for him later," Murderface said, then laughed at the chairfight on the screen. "I love these talk schows, they look like so much fun. I wanna go on one."

"Pfffffffffft," went Skwisgaar, still practicing. "That's is totallys lames. That is all planneds and choreagrapheds anyway."

"No it'sh not!," argued Murderface. "It'sh reality tv!"

"I'm tired of watching tv, let's do something else," Sam suggests.

"I'm gonna get somethin to eat," Nathan says, getting up. Sam follows him eagerly.

"So you and Mom are like, dating?," he asks the frontman as they walked.

"Um. Yeah."

"You are so not her type."

"Huh?"

"She's all into these arty, nerdy guys, like my Dad. Hey what ya got to eat? Can I have a hamburger?"

"Sure, kid," Nathan grunts. "Jean-Pierre will make one for you."

On the way back from the kitchen Sam darted away and pulled the emergency fire alarm, causing panic at Mordland as everyone went through their fire drill. Katrina is gonna let me have it now, Nathan said to himself. He dragged the kid with him to the rec room, considering whether he should tether him to the couch. Sam threw a tantrum the whole way back.

"Dood, what's goin on?," asked Pickles, who was taking a drag of his cigarrette and stumbling through the hallways.

"You got another bastard kid ya didn't know about?"

"Hi Pickles!," Sam waved as he was yanked about.

"No, Pickles, this is Katrina's."


	5. RevealKlok

"Ugh, is hot," gasped Toki as they carried their bags across the yard. It was way hot and muggy in the Norwegian's opinion and he was sweating already. A middle-aged, balding man ran to meet them, grabbing much of the luggage.

"Thanks, Artie," Judy said gratefully.

"Oh, it's good to see ya home!," he beams at the young woman. "It's a lot duller without you around." He and his wife Martha acted as handymen, cooks and secretaries to the Evans household. Betty's parents had owned numerous paper mills and factories, and despite their disappointment in their only child (they nearly disowned her for being an unwed teenage mother) had left all their estate to her in their will. Artie and Martha Reed came with the place, so to speak, and were pretty much part of the family.

Betty, with true Southern grit, continued to work her regular nurse's job. She couldn't stand to be idle for long. "Toki you look like you need something to drink. Let's go on the back porch and have some iced tea!," she suggests.

And so it was Dethklok's rhythm guitarist found himself, still sweating, under a roofed sundeck sipping iced tea somewhere in Georgia, USA. Summers never got this hot where he was from. He was ancestrally and finely adapted to the cold of the extreme North, and he loved snow and cold weather. His physique he earned from the hard manual labor his parents forced him to perform on a daily basis. He fished the frigid waters in the fjords, he cleaned out the barn, hauled heavy loads on his back, and walked nearly everywhere he wanted to go.

His only solace after the destruction of his guitar was to visit the town music store. Whenever he'd done his chores and his parents were sick of looking at him he was allowed to walk the 2.5 miles into town. There people smiled and chatted and laughed without a thought--there people were nice to him and accepted him, long hair and all. The music store clerk, Ing, seemed to take pity on him and allowed him to practice on the display guitars.

"So Toki, how old are you now?," the twentysomething Ing asked him one day.

"I 'm 14," he answered shyly.

"Well, when you turn 16 you could come work for me here, if you like," the kindly young man tells the lad. "It would get you out of the house more."

"Oh, wowee, that would be great!," he exclaimed.

"Look, uh, Toki, I have an idea your homelife might not be that good...you wanna tell me about it? You hang around here an awful lot, and I've seen the bruises."

"No, everything's all right, really."

"Ah, I might've said too much," Ing goes on. "Listen, if...ah, something happens and you have to leave or something, you can use me as a reference, I'll vouch for you. Hell, I got friends all over, just tell em I sent you, eh?"

"Sure, thanks!"

Toki's attention snapped back the present when Judy's mother asked him if he'd like more iced tea. "Jah, tanks. Hey, coulds you tells me how you and Nathans got togethers?"

"I suppose I could," she says, getting a wistful expression on her face. "I was the little 'rich girl' in school, never made a lot of friends even though I was 'popular' I guess you could say. Daddy always moved us around a lot when I was little, until he bought his first factory. So anyways I was a cheerleader, and I noticed Nathan before a game one day. He was built, sure enough, and that black hair!," she laughed. "He was something, even though he never said much. All the other girls, and part of the boys, were afraid of him."

Toki could definately relate. Nathan was a force to be reckoned with, like a hurricane.

"I mustered up the nerve to talk to him, and I found he could be really sweet, at least to me he was. He was into metal and all that bad-boy stuff, I guess you could say I was totally smitten. He was my first...well, you know."

"Eww, Mom," Judy mock-complained. "I don't need the gory details."

"Well, you're here so you can guess what happened," Betty teased her back.

"You was a big surprise too, then, Judys," Toki spoke up.

"Boy howdy, she was! I understand Nathan didn't get along with his folks and ran off to join a band, and I was left with a big surprise! Mommy and Daddy was livid, to be sure, but I was adamant--I wasn't getting rid of my baby, and I haven't regretted a damn thing." She smiled lovingly at her daughter over her glass.

Toki smiled half-heartedly at that. He wished Betty was his mother, he thought fiercely. "Buts..why didn'ts you tells Nathans? You coulda made him helps you."

"Well, I had no clue where he was for years, and if I'd come accusin' him of things and demanding what was due, he may never had been able to join Dethklok. Not if he was draggin' a hillbilly and a little girl around wi' him. I made out just fine without his help, gives me a sense o'pride. Only thing I feel bad about is Judy not growing up with a father, her real father. When she grew up and started asking questions, I gave in and told her about him, and she just had to meet him. I'm glad she did, actually. It's a weight off my shoulders."

After a bit more conversation, Judy's mother bid her show Toki around the house and his room where he'd be sleeping, so he followed her upstairs. "Judys, what's hanky-pankies? And why doesn't she want any in her house?," he wonders out loud.

Judy almost laughed at him before she realized he was in earnest. "It's..well, how do you spell it? S-C-E-X-X? And like, fooling around."

"Aw, we can't do the sex? But it's nice!"

"Yes Toki, it is, but it's what got her me, and almost kicked out of her parents' house. She doesn't want that for me."

"That's dildoes! Does nobodies do it in de South?"

"Unfortunately, a lot," she chuckles. "We're just more discreet."

"Judys," he wheedles. "I has DethKondoms."

"Toki, go to your room," she orders.

"Well cans I at least take my shirt off? It's too hots!"

"Maybes the kids would likes to play videos game," Skwisgaar suggested. "Toki and Murderface has all those games junkin' up that walls."

"Ooh, ooh, yeah!," agrees Sam, struggling with his harness/leash. He'd been fastened to the couch, screaming bloody murder, and had calmed down watching tv. "Can I? Pleeeeease?"

"If I let you out of the leash you won't go runnin off again, will you?," rumbled Nathan, towering over the boy.

"No, I'll be good," the kid promised. Nathan growled and released him, and he stood there, not doing anything.

"Bet ya can't beat me at Wheelchair Bound," challenged Murderface, leading Sam to the arcade machines.

"I kick ass at that game!," retorts the boy as they got ready to play. At their whooping and laughing and other sounds of merriment Pickles and Nathan moseys to the video games and joins in. They'd never really paid any attention when Toki played them (a lot) or Murderface played Wheelchair Bound (occasionally). They had a good time shooting at stuff, jumping, and dancing. Looking at the kid a tiny light bulb went off in Murderface's head.

"Sam," Murderface said. "How would you like to go on a talk schow?"

"Murderface," Nathan warns, eyeballing him.

"I think I jusht had an idea," Murderface grinned.

Half hour later...

"I got off the phone with the Jerry Shpringer Show," Murderface announces. "We've been asked to go on their next taping!"

"Yeah? When's that?," wondered Pickles, on his third pack of cigarrettes that day.

"Ahh..we gotta leave right now."

"Well who's going?," Nathan asked, getting that sinking feeling.

"You'll have to go to watch him," Murderface said. "And Jean-Pierre, and me of course. And a Klokateer, we'll have to have a Klokateer. Hell, let'sh all go."

"Why does Jean-Pierres needs to goes?," Skwisgaar demanded. "What dids you tells them on that stupid show?"

"Don't worry about it it," asserts the bassist. "I got it alllll figured out."

"I don't think this can end well. I'm just, uh, throwing it out there," went Nathan.

"Duly noted. Aschole," muttered Murderface.

Another half hour later...

"Yeah, we..uh, decided to all go out and do something," Nathan was explaining to Katrina on his Dethphone. They were currently aboard the Dethcopter on the way to tape The Jerry Springer Show. "We're goin to an amusement park, yeah. We'll be back in a few hours. No I don't know anything about a fire drill. Do we guys? See. So uh, see you later. I love you too. Bye."

"Oooh, Nat'an, you just lying through yer teeth," Pickles jabs at him. "I love it."

"I can't believe we're doin this," Nathan gripes.


	6. Causin Troubles

Toki got to feed the ducks at the pond and had to know everything about everything going on in and around the house. Martha treated him as a long-lost son, or a puppy at least, and laughed at his antics, even when he spilled the salt and tried to throw a dash over his shoulder, only to toss the whole glass saltshaker across the room where it hit Slobbers the dog in the head. Yelping, the dog tore through the house, and everyone laughed, mostly at Toki's horrified expression. Nobody was mad at him, he realized. He was likewise tired when he went to bed that night. He listened to Judy's feet as they receded to her old bedroom, closing the door softly. The room was comfortable enough, but it wasn't his room, with his models and music equipment at hand.

He got out his Deddy Bear and hugged him close. He disrobed and put on pajama bottoms, he was too hot STILL, he thought, and crawled into the big bed with its brass bedknobs. He switched off the lamp and lay there, sinking into the uncanny silence. Nothing was familiar, nothing seemed secure to him. The large old house creaked as it settled, and trees brushed the far window in the bedroom, making him start. No noise served to lull him to sleep, no music or television or people talking, no Skwisgaar practicing. It was beginning to get unnerving. He closed his eyes, clutching DethBear, and tried to be still.

He couldn't sleep. How ironic, he couldn't sleep in this nice room of a hospitable host, and he used to go to sleep half-standing in a moldy basement, hanging from a clasp, listening to the rats chew on his feet? But now he was used to his snug little nest at Mordhaus with its daily and nightly sounds. "ARRRrggghhh!," he groused, throwing the sheets off him. Hankies-pankies or no, he was heading for Judy's room.

He slipped out of his room and tiptoed to the girl's room, turning the knob as slowly and carefully as he could. She was already sleeping, on her side, in her usual t-shirt and shorts. This was the most peaceful she ever got, being the big bundle of noise (like her father) that she was, her strong-jawed face, high cheekbones and full lips already so familiar to him. He called her name as low as he could but she hardly stirred, so he eased into the bed with her. It smelled like the lotions and perfume she used, so he was quite comfortable with it. He fitted his body against hers and threaded an arm around her waist. Then he went right to sleep, both of them facing the same direction, her with her back to him.

Sometime during the night Judy woke up with a familiar wiry, toned arm around her and smiled sleepily. The she shot awake. "Toki! What the fuck! You can't be in here!"

He rubbed his eyes and looked at her groggily. "Wha? Why's not?"

"Cause it ain't proper, that's why! It's my Mom's house, so we need to respect her wishes."

"Please...please don't send me away," he said pitifully. "Nobodies has to knows."

"Toki, get back to your room. Now."

To her astonishment he burst into tears, burying his face in her chest. "I's scared, this place is creepies at night. I don't wanna be's by myselfs. I used to have to...nights at a time...the rats...alone...oh, the rats!" He began sobbing uncontrollably, clutching at her. He was shaking like a leaf and unable to speak coherently.

"Dear Lord, Toki," she breathed, holding him. "Whatever's the matter?"

Betty came bursting into the room, flicking on the light and gripping a baseball bat. "What in tarnation? What's going on? Is Toki sick?"

Then Toki told everything.

The assistants were directing the big group where to go, biting lips as they went--the guys had trashed the lobby and the waiting room. Murderface had caused the burn ward to increase its patients by two after throwing a hot pot of coffee on two interns, and that was just him warming up.

So here's the setup: Jean-Pierre, appearing in his hastily-sewn-together self, looking forlorn and a bit lost (actually he was a lot lost), sitting in a chair on the stage. Several others wire lined up along one side of the chef, waiting for the occupants to be brought out. The studio audience sat patiently, the crew ready at their posts, the host adjusting his tie. When the show started, Jerry Springer announced the background information; namely, that Jean-Pierre was the long-suffering, neglected lover of Murderface, and they have an adopted love child (and this is where Sam comes in). Murderface has been cheating on dear Jean-Pierre and has been denying it, even though he stays out all hours of the day and night. And then we have Klokateer #353, who's also been riding the Murderface train, it seems.

Jerry then called for Murderface to come out, and all the studio audience booed. The bassist flipped them off and began repeating "Fuck you!" and "You don't know me! I do what I want!," to the camera. He was enjoying the shit out of this, and he couldn't even explain why. It was just so awesome to have that much hate pouring over him like a wave, because it was actually warm and comforting to him.

"Ok, Murderface," Springer was saying. "Jean-Pierre thinks you've got somebody else on the side, and he says he's getting really lonely. So tell us the truth."

"Yeah, I got another man, whut?," he growls. "Jean-Pierre just cooks all day long, he's no fun anymore."

The chef looked stricken, as if he'd just regurgitated his own lung.

"Well let's bring out the other man!," Springer declares with a flourish, and #353 enters the stage area, hooded and hulking, and slouches in one of the empty chairs. Backstage Nathan put his face in his hands. The other guys shook there heads at their bandmate's audacity. Well, and brilliance.

"Ok, here'sh where you start freaking out," whispers Murderface to Jean-Pierre. "Ah, how could you do zis to me?," he cried, his patchwork face terribly pitiful, one eye bulging. "I thought you were my one-and-only."

"Well, what can I say," sighed Murderface, scowling at the people in the audience. "He's great in bed."

"And what do you have to say, Number 353?," Jerry asked him.

"Well," the hoodie says. "It's true, we've been seein' each other for about 6 months now. It's been great."

"And there's somebody else who's been hurt by Murderface's actions. This is ten-year-old Sam, Jean-Pierre and Murderface's son, who just wants his fathers to stay together."

"Dad, you suck!," the boy cries, giving the bassist the middle finger. He'd been told to be obnoxious and angsty, so he was giving it the good old college try. "You gonna cheat on my other dad! I hate you!" He began weeping, making the folks go "Awww!"

Things deteriorated from there when Steve the security guy tried to keep Murderface from getting his dagger out and a scuffle ensued. Then overzealous Sam divebombed somebody from his seat and Klokateer 353 instinctively tried to stop him, and more security guards came out, and Jean-Pierre ran yelping backstage. The other members of Dethklok watched with jaws agape as a free-for-all broke out and spread throughout the studio. Klokateer 261 (who was a midget) ran out with his diamond-encrusted platinum/titanium codpiece stapped to his short frame, and was flying through the air puncturing people with it. Jerry slipped on a puddle of blood and cracked his head on a step, taking him out of the equation.

"Sonsch of bitsches!!," screamed Murderface, hitting and kicking anything that moved near him. A slight figure in a red mohawk darted hither and thither, kicking people in the shin and stomping their feet.

"Come on, it's a knock-down-drag-out!," cried Pickles eagerly, running out to join the fray.

"Well, guess I betters get downs to business," Skwisgaar sighed, and followed him.

"AHHH, fuck," swore Nathan.


	7. DethConfession

After Toki haltingly told his devastating, depressing childhood to the two females both sat there, speechless. At last Betty said "I'm sorry, darlin. You poor thing, you've never had anyone love you, have ya?"

"I want to kill them," vowed Judy, her emerald eyes flashing in rage. "How could they.."

"Right now I think we need to worry about Toki," the mother decided. "Toki honey, I'm a nurse, yanno. Come to the kitchen and I'll get you something to calm you down and help you sleep. Come on," she pulled him by his arm and dumbly he allowed her to take him downstairs. "It'll be all right," she kept reassuring him.

Toki felt drained and numb, but...a great pressure that had been oppressing him had been lifted. He swallowed the pill the blonde gave him, sniffling. He worried that he'd made a complete ass of himself but as the sedative took hold he just settled into it. Soon he was snoozing away in his bed, Judy making sure Deddy Bear was tucked under his arm. If he dreamed, he didn't remember, and that was fine by him.

He awoke in a strange room, sunlight falling across the bed, feeling wrung-out. But...no anxiety. He got up and sauntered downstairs and saw Artie and Martha going about their business. They smiled at him and bade him good morning, Martha informing him there was leftover breakfast waiting for him in the kitchen. He passed by the slide door leading to the porch, and it wasn't shut all the way so he heard Judy and her mother talking. "God knows I like the goofball too much already," Betty was saying. "I was just disappointed that you was falling for the same kinda bad boy I did, but he's not a bad boy. He's childlike and adorable."

"See Mom, I told ya," Judy spoke.

Toki continued into the kitchen, wondering what that was all about. He ate the sausage, eggs, and gravy with two biscuits, savoring the taste. He rarely had meat on a regular basis growing up, he thought. It was usually fish or sheep, and that was when he parents weren't depriving him over something terrible he'd done. He'd turned fifteen and had been pulled from public school, his parents fearing that outside ideas were permeating Toki's mind.

Anja had caught him masturbating in his room and had beaten him, and continued beating him as he ran yelling through the house. He would be damned to eternal Hellfire, he was told. His palms would grow hair and he'd go blind if he didn't cease. He must learn to control his body and its urges, and not submit to Satan's temptations of the flesh. The skinny woman tore his shirt from him, flailing him with his own belt. "Get out, you dog! Get outside before I kill you!," she hurled at him. He bolted out the front door, the crazed woman on his heels.

"Now roll in that snow, you burn with Hell's own fire!," she commanded. The teen obeyed, terrified and bewildered, and was wet all over in just a few dozen seconds. The air was biting cold and ice began freezing in his long light-brown hair. His flesh broke out in goosebumps but still he did as his mother ordered. "You," Anja gasped at him. "You will suffer from the same fate as your father and I, you Hound of Hell. You must learn to be a good servant of God!"

He got to his feet, body chilled but eyes smoldering with anger, and approached his mother. She only belatedly noticed he was already taller and broader than her. "Fuck your God," he cursed. "I don't need God. I don't need you, always cruel to me no matter what I do." He stalked back to the house, Anja screeching at him.

Toki put on another shirt, stuffed some money he'd been saving in his pockets, and said sternly, "Tell Father when he gets back I've left, so he doesn't have to worry about me or my soul anymore. I won't come back here ever again."

"You can't leave! Leave us, all alone?," she shrieked, panicking now. "You would, you animal! Hey! Where you think you'll go? The Devil rules out there, you know! He's the Lord of this World!"

"Then I will be Lord of My World," he said, and began walking. He didn't look back.

He got some money and advice from Ing, and some names of people who could help him find work. He slept in alleys, on couches, squatted in abandoned buildings. He bought a cheap guitar and he began playing again. He was beaten up and taunted and almost raped several times, being a pretty young boy out all alone, but none of it was ever as bad as what he suffered at the hands of his parents. How he hated them, and hated himself from being part of them. Would he ever be truly free of them?

"Toki?," Judy asked gently. She put a hand on his shoulder.

--11:30 PM (Previous Day), Emergency Band Meeting.--

Nathan sat at the table in the conference room looking down at the stapler before him. Katrina sat across from him, running her hand through shoulder-length blue hair. The singer seemed to shrink bfore her withering gaze--her black eyes crackled in ire. "Nathan, I don't think I've ever been this pissed at you before."

"Hoo boy," snorted Murderface, stabbing the table. One squinty hazel eye was swelled shut, his lip cut and forehead blue and blotchy. The others were in similiar condition; Skwisgaar was missing some of his wavy blond hair, Pickles needed to have his cornrows rebraided, and Nathan's nose was still bleeding.

"Shut up," Katrina shot at him, and he complied. "Charles says he's been getting calls from attorneys all evening, you guys go somewhere NOT the amusement park which you're not saying and my son, who you're _supposed_ to be watching, looks like he's been dragged through a cat's asshole."

Ofdensen, who'd been heretofore silent spoke up, his deep grey eyes the only thing that belied his annoyance. "it seems that somehow they got themselves on a talk show, and completely destroyed it. The, ah, host is in critical condition and several executives lost their lives, not counting the audience dead and wounded. Is..is their any reason why you were on the Jerry Springer show?"

The boys all looked round at one another but said nothing, all appearing guilty as sin. Sam, quietly contrite, fidgeted. He was dirty, bruised, and bedraggled, his red mohawk mostly fallen over by now. At the same time a dozen or so citizens had swelled the patient ranks at local hospitals. And the morgue. Agent 261 somehow got promoted, provided he not wear the diamond-encrusted codpiece while on duty. Agent 353's love life spiked for several weeks after that, and Jerry Springer came out of a coma about that same time later. He subsequently did his show from his wheelchair for some months after.

But I digress. "Just when I think you couldn't possibly do anything more outrageous and retarded, you pull this shit," the blue-haired executive assistant went on.

"Its was Murderface," accused Skwisgaar. He'd broken his favorite Gibson Explorer during the talk show battle and was feeling rather surly. "He wanteds to goes on stupid show and gets the attentions."

"Tattletell!," yelled Murderface, leaping out of his chair at the guitarist.

"Sit down," growled Nathan, finally vocalizing. Muttering under his breath he plopped back down.

"I can't accept you endangering my son," she clipped out, fighting to keep her voice from getting louder.

"But Mom, I'm ok. Nathan didn't--"

"Sam, please," Katrina sent him the 'angry mother' glare. "That's it. We're done," she told Nathan.

"What--you're breaking up with me again?," Nathan asked in genuine disbelief.

Thin lips twitching the tall, slender woman got up and began pacing.

"Look, Katrina, I knew it was a bad idea, but I tried to keep Sam outta trouble. Murderface wanted to go on the Springer show and we went with him. We--uh, yanno, gotta stick together. Can we just go ahead and kiss and make up? I'm feelin...kinda frisky."

"Gaaahhhhh!," she stomped her foot. "I'm going to my room because if I stay here any longer I'm GONNA KILL YOU!," she ran, wiping her eyes.

"That was well-played, Nathan," Ofdensen observed dryly.

"Shut up, Off!," Nathan roared at him. "Now I don't have a girlfriend and I'm not gettin' laid tonight! Arrrrghhh!," he stalked towards the liquor cabinet, intent on getting smashed.

Silence for the next few moments. The CFO turns to Sam and offers to take him to Judy's room where he can play video games and use her computer, and locks him there to prevent further crises. He was indeed a shrewd little bastard when it suited him, and ruthless as well. Off then headed for Katrina's room.

Pickles broke the ice by suggesting the rest of them get in the hot tub. It always relieved their stress.

"You knows whats?," asked Skwisgaar. "I thinks I miss that dumbass Toki."

"Dawww," mocks the chunky bassist.

"Don'ts tell him that, okays? You owes us for this tomfoolerys."

"What-evah. Dick."

Knock knock "Ah, Katrina? Could you open up, please? It's Charles." Knock knock "Katrina?"

The door opened to reveal a still-upset Katrina dressed in robe and slippers, appearing freshly-scrubbed, hair still damp. "Yeah?"

"Don't yeah me, Missy," he said brusquely. Somehow 'Missy' had become his pet name for her, which he rarely used, especially if Nathan was around. He didn't get to where he was by being stupid, after all. "Talk. Now."

"You're as bad as Nathan," she jabbed at him, standing aside anyway to allow him entrance. Fucking men, she thought.

"How many times this month does that make you?," the suave, wiry man wondered, sitting in the chair at her art desk. He observed the sweep of her long, smooth white neck, prominent collarbones and beautiful dark eyes and liked what he saw. He'd never noticed her in that way before. She had a masculine energy and fun-loving way that allowed her to fit in with a bunch of guys. He filed this away for another possible time.

"This makes the third this time this month. It's been getting better," she answered sarcastically.

"But yet you still work helping me when you're not speaking to him. That's either very professional, dedicated, or dick-brained, to borrow a phrase from William."

"I got Sam to think about," she responded simply. "And God help me I love Nathan."

"You know...I'm not the sentimental type," Ofdensen said, glancing over her latest art project.

That's an understatement, Katrina thought.

"...but you two do make a cute couple," he finished. "I, ah, think we're all a family. Just remember that. And remember he loves you too."

"I know," she agreed. "Somehow I've gotten sucked into this big Dethklok clusterfuck kicking and screaming."

"Yeah," the manager got up, cracking one of his rare smiles. "We tend to grow on you. You gonna be all right?"

"I'll be ok," she assured. "Thanks, Charles."

"Well, good night, Missy," he said, letting himself out the door.

She sat down at her art desk, biting her lip. Knock knock came at her door. "What the fuck?"


	8. Fallin' Apart

"Let it out, Toki," she encouraged.

"No, it's too terribles."

She took his face in her hands, gazing intently. "Damn you, you can't carry it around eating at you for the rest of your days."

First a tear, then another, and another fell, and he was sobbing his misery and neurosis and frustrated rage against Judy's strong shoulder. After what seemed like hours he asked quietly "You won't tells anyone else?"

"No, I won't," she stated.

Toki found he did feel better. "And your Moms, she won't tells anyone?"

"No, Toki. It's our secret."

"Dat's good," he brightened, wiping his reddened eyes. "I wants to go play with Slobber," and he went outside with Slobbers, the big German Shepherd dog. The canine sorta reminded him of the yard-wolves at Mordhaus, which was like a bit of home. The girl found him romping with the dog and biting his ear. "What are you doing to Slobbers?"

"We's playing," came the no-nonsense answer.

"Don't bite the dog, man!," she couldn't keep from snickering. "Good Lord, and you expect me to let you kiss me after that?"

"I kiss the yardwolves and thens kiss you afters all de times," confessed the rhythm guitarist.

"Ohh, gross!," she sputtered. Still in her nightgown she dashed through the yard with Toki after her making kissy noises. He tackled her, sending them tumbling down the rolling curves of the lawn. They ended up with her sitting atop him, jabbing her finger at him. "You don't get any kissin' until you wash your mouth out after bitin' the dog!"

"Party poopers," he stuck out his lower lip.

She leaned down to him, smirking. "How would you like to get into some shenanigans?"

"Ooh, like hankies-pankies?," he said excitedly.

"Yep. Mom's going into town today." She rolled off him and hand-in-hand they went back to the house. "Toki," she began, and her tone was serious. "I'm so, so sorry about...your childhood. I just want you to know I'm behind you all the way." The man said nothing. "Did you--uh, ever have a girlfriend? I mean, if you don't wanna talk about it that's fine.."

"Jah, when I runs away from home I meets this goil, well, she was older than me. But she had beautifuls red hairs and she was nice to me, and I goes to lives with her fors a while. She stayeds with her friends and they all likeds me."

"That's awesome," Judy said. "So what happened?"

"My parent comes lookings for me, even though I was ins a different city, and they hads the authority looking for me's. I was 17 by that time, and had been playings my guitars with friends but had no band. Afters my mother and father came asking question of Tanya, the goil, I runs away again. I didn'ts want them to do's anythings bad to her."

"Aw, Toki! Did you not ever hear from her again?"

"Jah, I cames back a year later to see if she was all rights, and she was. She was in colleges and hads a little boy raisings him. I was evens more scareds and upsets, and I left her alone. I moves to a different place."

Judy stared at him in amazement. "Oh my Gawd! Toki--I bet that's your son! Holy shit!"

"How do yous knows thats? She could been wif somebody elses."

"Wait, what did she name him?"

"I don't knows real name, but her friends called him 'Keeson' or sometings like dat."

"Toki, don't you see? She gave his last name in old Scandinavian fashion, after his father--Tokisson!"

He wondered why he'd never thought of that, but then said "Why wouldn't she had said sometings before now? She coulda tolds me when I saws her last."

"It's too much of a coincidence, darlin. You should contact her, at least find out. What if you do have a son? He should know his father!"

"I knew my fathers and it was no benefits," he told her evenly.

"But Toki, that's different. You'd make a great father!," she was positive.

"I still don't knows...it's been many years."

"I think you shoud," she reiterated. "I was born and grew up not knowing my father. I had a happy childhood but all the other kids had a dad to play with and take care of them."

"Wells...maybes I try," he said, still unsure. He frowned in thought.

Judy kissed Toki slowly, leaving his head spinning. She led him to her room and doffed her nightgown. Toki's mind was instantly diverted, enjoying the sight of her. She was a shade taller than him and both muscular and curvy, thick black hair still mussed. His own body was compact yet strong; his abs were absolutely amazing, not an ounce of fat on him despite what fashion moguls may say. She was beautiful, he thought, but not the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. No, she was interesting and fun, and that was better. Pretty women were a dime a dozen when you're a rock star, which was why Skwisgaar cultivated his freak harem, full of seniors, tattooed heroin addicts and the grossly obese. It was too easy to get bored.

Toki tended to lapse into Norwegian during lovemaking, and its purring guttural tones drove Judy wild. She determined to learn the language so she could understand what he was saying to her during that intimate time, and also talk to him in his native tongue. He'd entered her with joyous abandon and that peculiar childlike wonder that was unique to him, and she had a strange idea. This man would remain innocent even standing hip-deep in the remains of someone he'd beaten to death with his bare hands. He'd still have that open, unstained way about him.

What a strange thing to be thinking about while fucking your boyfriend, Judy thought. In a break of heavily panted Norwegian words she told him to shut up, out of habit.

Rolling her eyes Katrina answered the door again, thinking Charles had come to bug her some more, and found a roughed-up Pickles grinning lopsidedly at her. In his underwear, which wasn't that unusual, but he wasn't drunk yet, which was unusual. And it wasn't for lack of him trying as he was still clutching a bottle of Southern Comfort. "Hi," he spoke, almost shyly.

"Hey Pickles," she greeted him, a tad puzzled. "Ah, something I can do for you?"

"I kinda wanted to talk to you," he said, finishing off the bottle and putting it on her dresser.

"What's up, Pickles m'boy?"

"It's Nat'an, he's really tore up about tonight, man. He's stankass drunk and he's not happy about it. Can you believe that? He's that upset! Do you mind if I smoke in here?"

"Yes I do, actually. This is my safe haven, I've explained this to you all before," she sighed, understanding finally why Ofdensen removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose or his temples at times.

"Ok, ok then," he concedes to her. "But yeah, aboot Nat'an--"

"I know he means well, Pickles, but can I really trust him? I sometimes wonder if he's just too far out there."

"But we all like you!," he protested. The woman had started straightening up her creative corner, as she liked to call it, bustling in an attempt to curb her nervousness at where the conversation was going. The red-haired drummer never realized how tall she was, even without her heels. She'd never realized how short he was, or how freckled. It was kinda cute. "And Nat'an is unbearable when you're mad at him!"

"I'm not leaving, Pickles," she assured him. "Even if things don't work out with me and him. I like you guys, too." She was rather touched by this whole display.

"Dood, I got somethin that'll make ya feel better," he chuckled, reaching into his shorts and pulling out a baggy of something...

"Aw, is that what I think it is?"

"Yeppers."

"And did you just PULL THAT OUT OF YOUR UNDERWEAR?!"

"Yep."

"I am not touching that. No, no way."

"Oh come on ya douchebag, it was in a baggy!," he declared, pulling a tiny pipe out of the bag. "Coooome on, what does Katrina do? Yeah, what does she do? She has a little smoke, that's what she does!"

"Pickles, I am going to bed--"

"No, you're bein' stubbern and dumb just like Nat'an, who won't come in here an' apologize so he can get some pussy! You guys are freakin' retarded for each other! Now come here and hit some of this."

"No."

"Comehere," he repeated. "Then you'll ride the Nathan Train o' Love and we can all be happy."

"No!"

"Do it!"

15 minutes later...

"You shoulda seen Sam's face when that turtle peed on him!," Katrina guffawed. "It was priceless!" They'd been looking at photo albums, sitting on her bed and enjoying Pickles' uber-hidden weed stash.

Pickles was holding his sides. "Kids do the funniest shit, that's for sure!," he was hardly able to talk. "So, ya feelin any better?"

"Yeah, I do feel a bit better," she admitted. "I suppose I can have a long talk with Nathan in the morning. I've never smoked underpants pot before."

"That's MY secret haven," he joked, punching her in the shoulder.

"Ow! Douchebag," she protested, punching him back. "That hurt!"

"Sorry! I fergot you was a girl." He laughed at her offended expression.

"That's nice," she sniffed haughtily.

"Hey, what's that?," he said, pointing at the front of her robe. When she looked down he grabbed her nose. "Hah! Made ya look! Murderface gets Toki all the time with that one." He giggled.

"You dickhole!," she tried to keep from laughing, and shoved at him, almost pushing him off the bed. He tried to squirm away but her arms were longer and she caught hold of him, both laughing, pinning him on his back in the bed. She was leaning across him, holding him down, and said "Now I got you right where I want you! Hah!"

Pickles noticed she definitely was a girl when he looked down her robe which had stretched open and saw two small but nicely made, still-perky breasts, and his face grew hot. She wasn't wearing anything underneath it. "Ahh, Katrina..?"

"Yeah, Pickles?," she was catching her breath.

"I think I better get up now." He started to get out from under her but found his arms went around her instead. She caught the change in his tone and looked down at him, her dark eyes staring into his green ones, seeing the desire that had just awakened there. She was more surprised that she felt it too, and felt no inclination to curb it. She kissed him, tentatively at first, then more fiercely. She helped him open her robe and he was impressed with her milk-white skin, almost as fair as his only not liberally dotted with freckles. He'd seen her before in the hot tub but had never really paid close attention. She was a fine woman, Pickles thought--Nathan is frickin 'tarded to keep pissing her off like that.

What was wrong with her?, she thought.

She was hurting, and he was here, and she was here. It didn't matter they didn't love each other that way or that he was a scraggly, half-baked, skinny specimen or that she wasn't Rebecca Nightrod model-beautiful. They cared about each other, and that was enough.

"Whoa whoa whoa, wait," declared the drummer, gently pushing her off him. "We can't--I can't..." His face flushed.

"I know, but I thank you." She allowed him to sit up. The drummer remarked to himself how interesting her body was, long and lean in contrast to his own short and slight body. She was long smooth angles, put together gracefully. Even the faint stretchmarks on her belly gave it character and flavor.

"Fer what?"

"For being wiser than all the rest of us, Pickles my friend." She wrapped the robe around herself again, but he'd already imprinted her image in his mind's eye, and no amount of alcohol or drugs would erase it. He bid her good night, and retired to his own room thinking that if something happened he would totally take Nathan's sloppy seconds.


	9. DeviousKlok

Chapter 9: DeviousKlok Warning: gratuitous sex ahead.

A few days later...

Ofdensen was working on his third cup of coffee, sitting in his office waiting for Katrina to show up and make her rounds. Then he remembered; he'd promised her the rest of the week off to be with her son. Dammit. He considered getting himself cloned a few times so he could get all his work done, but then who was he kidding? He'd just end up with that much more to do. It never ends, he mused. Now he's got this paternity test shit to do all over again, only this time with Toki, along with the other demands on his attention. He decided to cancel that afternoon's motivational meeting with more than a little glee at depriving someone other than himself.

Nathan woke up with a familiar lean body next to him and was relieved to still find her there. He liked it when she didn't return to her own room, although he wouldn't admit it to anyone, not even himself. Make-up sex kicked ass, even a couple days after. Katrina stirred, rolled over and murmured "What time is it?"

"Still early," came the laconic answer.

"Isn't Judy and Toki coming back today?"

"Oh, yeah. I guess you're right." Reluctantly he searched for some semi-clean clothes to wear and headed to his adjacent bathroom to shower.

"Dood, you can't have anymore of my Yopo Lite," Pickles said with an air of finality. "I wanted to try it for myself."

"You gots enoughs for yous," Skwisgaar scoffs. "We wants to has some...to give to somebody else." Murderface had that guilty expression again.

"Ahh..you guys are plannin on slipping it to someone," Pickles had an epiphany. "Look, I paid a lot of money to have this stuff reduced down for more recreational use, and it's in a convenient powder. So who you gonna give it to? Eh?"

"We's never tells," Skwisgaar grinned his goofy smile.

"Fine, keep yer secret. I just wanna be around when they hit the peak, bwahahaha. All right, I'll give ya a little. Ah ah, remember who yer daddy is," Pickles smirked at them. He transferred some of the yellowish powder to a small bag Murderface held out, and they hurried away giggling like schoolgirls. They were definitely up to no good.

"Heyyy, I'm baaack!," rang out Judy's excited voice, the girl herself popping around the corner a moment later. "Uncle Pickles!"

"Heyyy," he said as she collided into him in a huge bear hug. Toki followed after, hugging him. The drummer suddenly felt mobbed and crushed as strong arms were all around him. "Hey there, Toki. So I here you might be a dad? Is there like summin in the water, here?," he joked.

"Just drink de boozes and you'll be fine, Pickle!," Toki replied.

"Oh, I got some stuff that'll put a dick right in yer brain," he grinned. "If you're good I might let you have some."

"That sounds kinda painful," snickered the young woman. "Where's Dad?"

"He's supposed to be writin' lyrics and shit," Pickles replied. "He'll be out and about soon."

Actually Nathan had gotten as far as the shower and had only made it to the edge of the bed where Katrina was perched on him, moving her hips in time with his thrusts. His bearpaw hands gripped her slim waist, helping her impale herself on him more deeply. Katrina had two fistfuls of thick black hair, nibbling his ear. She loved watching him nearly as much as she loved humping his brains out, his eyes closed much of the time but his face strangely...serene. She knew he felt deeper than many gave him credit for, he just had a difficult time expressing himself.

He was expressing himself very well right now, the mask he usually wore on his face had dropped to show something...softer, passionate, but no less masculine as the rhythm grew faster, more insistent. "Oh...God," hissed the woman, when Nathan squeezed her ass and took a pert nipple in his mouth, rolling his tongue around the areola. She dug her nails into his broad back, nearing her climax, and then let out a throaty, lusty wail. A few thrusts later Nathan followed her, uttering a guttural snarl, shuddering in his own orgasm. They said there for a moment, breathless and sweaty, and he kissed her before she threw her leg over him and rolled onto the bed. She wanted a cigarrette and she didn't even smoke! "Ok, I'm gonna shower too," she told him. She went to the still-steamy bathroom.

"I think I need another one," he responded. "Make way."

"We both can't fit in there, it's too small!," she protested.

"Here I come," he said and shut the door. Water running could be heard, along with shouts, splashes and giggling. Water sloshed out from under the bathroom door.

Sam ran to hug Toki and Judy, excitedly babbling about the last few days spent at Mordhaus, then he asked what they had been up to. "You mean you might have a kid?," Sam asked, eyes wide, after he was told what was going on.

"Jah, he would be about six now, I thinks," Toki answered. "You could has another playmates. His mother and him is flyings in today."

"Wooo-eeeee!," the boy gushed. "I could show him the yard-wolves."

"Not without adult supervision," corrected Judy.

"Look at whats the cats drags in," pfffffted Skwisgaar, getting his obligatory hug from Judy. "You is dumber dildoes than I thoughts, Toki. Leaving de childrens all over the country, eh? Pfffft, you must be bigger dumbass than I credits you for."

"Hi, Skwisgaar," Toki rolled his eyes.

"Jah, I missed you," the Swede says. "You is still a dildoes."

"And you is still an assholes fuckface jerk-off," Toki replies sweetly, and added in Swedish, "Plus I get to bang this hot lady and you don't."

Skwisgaar's eyes flew open, was little Toki standing up for himself now? Fatherhood, or the distinct possibility of it, had obviously done something to the normally put-upon Norwegian. "Well," snapped Skwisgaar back in Norwegian, "You are stuck with just one, and I can have all the women I want, anytime I want!"

"Aw, bites me," Toki shot back in English, pulling Judy along by her hand. The lead guitarist always needed to have the last word, sulked Toki.


	10. Meetingsklok

Sam came with with the pair and they found Nathan and Katrina in the studio with Dick Knubbler, the producer extroidinaire, pounding out some lyrics. Judy nearly bowled her father over in her enthusiam to embrace him, making him smile and blush. "I missed you," he said quite low. Judy kissed him on the cheek. "Well did you guys have a good time?," he rumbled.

"Jah, but it's too hots down dere," Toki explains. "I gots a tans cause I couldn't wear my shirt, it was so hots."

Sam and his mother stayed with Nathan, for after he got done in the studio he was giving them (well, mostly Sam) a tour of Mordhaus, and he was hardly grumbling at all. Mostly. Toki and Judy decided after saying hi to Murderface to just watch some tv until the guests arrived. Toki fidgeted, unsure of how to behave, or of what to expect. He had no social skills or much common sense, due to the unique, abusive childhood he'd had, even though he was a billionaire rock star.

After some time a Klokateer announced they had visitors, and Judy bade him send them there, right away. "I'm kinda excited, Toki," Judy tells him.

"Why is thats?," he wonders. "I would thinks you be upsets with me."

"No way, Tokipants! I'd love to have your son around."

"What if he's not--"

"Shh, here they come!," she shushed.

"This way, madame," ushered the hooded employee, holding the door open for a curvy red-haired woman and a little boy who stared wide-eyed at everything in his vision. The woman was medium height with short reddish hair and blue-green eyes, dressed very well with her pantsuit and designer purse, looking mighty impressed with Mordhaus. She spotted Toki and greeted him in Norwegian. "Hello," she said in English in a distinct accent. "I'm Tanya," she shook Judy's hand.

"Hi," said the girl back, suddenly feeling underdressed in her t-shirt and shorts. "I'm Judy."

"And this is Keeson," she presented the six year old who was big-eyed in wonder. The child was round-faced with dark blue eyes and strawberry blond hair.

"Hey theres, Keeson," Toki smiled at him.

"Your English still stinks," joked Tanya. "You never paid attention."

"Mommy," said Keeson. "You know a member of Dethklok? For reals?" He also spoke passable English.

"Yah, honey, I was friends with him before you were born," she said. "We're here to..ah, visit. Isn't Mordhaus great?"

"Yah, it is! It's awesome!," the boy gushed. And he burst forth in a happy babble of Norwegian, which Toki responded back in their language. "It's so cools that you are from Norway like us!," Keeson declared.

Tanya stepped forward and gathered Toki up in an embrace, saying, "It's beens a long time, Toki. It's good to see you."

The rhythm guitarist's face flushed when she pulled away to eye Judy. "It's good to see you too, Judy. He needed to find somebody to love him. Well, I suppose we has certain business to attend to?"

"We can goes to Ofdensen and he can do's all that legal mambo-jambo. Judys, do you minds watching Keeson for a whiles?"

"No, Toki, we can play games and watch tv," Judy answers, feeling a bit overwhelmed at this classy, accomplished, self-posessed woman she'd invited into their lives. Toki gave her a quick but tender kiss as he turned to take Tanya to the conference room.

"She's a cute kid," she told him in their native tongue as they exited the room. "Makes me feel old," she laughed.

"She's awesome," Toki speaks. "Tanya?"

"Yes?"

"Thanks for coming."

"What the holy dog fuck, ish thish place a day care schenter now?," stormed Murderface when he discovered Judy and Keeson hanging out. He was a bit miffed he was left out of giving Sam a tour of Mordland and feeling nasty.

"Shut up, Murderface this is Toki's...uh..this is Keeson," she finished lamely. Then she shot the bassist a Nathanesque murderous look.

"Ohhh...haha, yeah," Murderface remembered Toki's predicament. "Wanna go pull the fire drill?"

"Dammit Murderface," shrieked Judy. "Don't teach him bad stuff!"

"Look around you, Judy," Murderface said. "Does thish look like a family friendly environment?"

Judy had to admit he had a point. They spent the next several minutes arguing over what direction to take Planet Piss in next with Keeson giggling at the funny adults, and then Toki came back alone. "Hey guys," he hailed. "Tanya will be back ins a minutes, so we can just pals around if you wants. Hey, wants to see my models airplanes?," he asked the six year old.

"Okay!," he shouted. It was cute watching them play with Toki's models, and he didn't even get angry when the boy accidently broke one and was quite apologetic about it.

"Is okay," Toki assured him. "I has dozens other ones." Keeson tried helping him clean up the pieces and the child looked up at the man with strangely knowing eyes.

"Ares you my father?," he asked bluntly.

"I...I don't knows," Toki said truthfully.

"I wish...," the boy began, then caught himself. Then he yawned.

"Maybe he shoud have a nap," suggested Judy. That would keep down the questions, for a while at least.


	11. Off is Off

Ofdensen and Tanya stared at one another for a few minutes, sizing each other up. She didn't flinch during his appraisal and he found he liked that. "So," he said. "If the test proves that's Toki is the father of your son, where does that leave us?"

"I don't want any pity money from him or from you," the redhead replied. "I woulds like a trust fund set aside for Keeson. I think a son of Dethklok deserves that much at least, don't you think?"

"Very good," the businessman said. "You must understand, madame, that when a band is as successful as Dethklok, there will always be--"

"Gold-diggers?," Tanya finished for him. "Haha, I think the only danger of that to the band would be coming from you." She smiled, genuinely.

"It's my job to assure the welfare of my boys. I'm very good at my job." Aha, all that cleavage and witty, too, Ofdensen dryly remarked to himself.

"I've known Toki for many years, and I'll reminds you he was the one who dragged me across the Atlantics for this," she retorted. "Are we finished?," she stood and began smoothing the front of her jacket, and trying to smooth out her demeanor. She suddenly wanted to appear immaculate before the well-tailored man.

"Well, the results will come in a couple days. Shall I show you to your guest quarters, Miss Olafsdottir?," he asked her. What an infuriating, accomplished, sophisticated woman, he thought. He didn't know if he wanted to kiss her or slap her.

"You're too kind," she said ironically, following the man through the mazelike hallways of Mordhaus. How cool and mysterious he is, she said to herself. She sensed that the Dethklok CFO was not one to fuck with. Well that's all right, she wasn't one to fuck with either. After directing the lady to her room he returned to his office, rubbing the bridge of his nose. The next hour was spent tackling other issues and drinking coffee.

The office phone rang. Picking it up he found Katrina on the line. "Charles, m'boy. I've been able to spend time with my son and Nathan, and it looks like you're having a tough go. Why don't I keep an eye on things this evening and you relax for once?"

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Missy," he protested.

"But all you do is work all the damn time. You've been good to me, so go chill out a while. Really, it's ok," she urged.

"Ah...I wouldn't know what to do," he honestly had never had any free time.

"Go hang out in the recreation room. This Toki paternity thing is stressing you out. Come on, I have a son, I know when someone's too tired."

Ofdensen sighed. "All right. If anything happens, or you need any help, call me."

"Yes, sir," she joked, and hung up.

"Huh," went Ofdensen, standing there. Now what?

Charles Foster Ofdensen sat on the couch and watched tv, assuming this was what one did to get comfortable. It didn't seem to be working...he shifted, changed the channel. Nope, he was feeling anxious, like he should be doing something constructive. Two figures appeared on either side of him.

"Hey Off, you're off!," Murderface snickered. "So you just hangin' out, huh?"

"Yes, William," he answered.

"Hey theres Ofdensen," Skwisgaar, on the other side, put in. "We gots somethings to help you relax," he proffered a bottle of wine.

"Thanks guys, but that's all right. I shouldn't--"

"Oh come on ya damn robot," countered the bassist. "You need to looschen up."

"You're being too nice," the CFO observed. "You guys do something to that wine?"

"Pffffft!," Skwisgaar rolled his eyes in mock-hurt. "Looks I will has some," he poured some in a glass and downed it. "Sees?"

Murderface poured some in a wine glass and handed it to Ofdensen. "Yeah, don't be a dick, be a dude."

Ofdensen drained the glass, unaware of the glassy-eyed, maniacal grins of his companions.

The warmth spread out from his belly, sinking into his bones pleasantly. Well, that wasn't too bad, he was starting to settle into his seat on the couch. He accepted another glass of wine and his pupils began to dilate. Hey now...that was weird, he thought. Ofdensen's perception began getting skewed...the television seemed to grow closer then farther away. Everything Murderface and Skwisgaar said was brilliantly funny, and he knew something was definitely amiss. He emptied another glass with them and man, was it on.

On like an atom bomb.

"Guys...," he slurred. "What the hell is going on?," pretty colors were dancing before his eyes.

The musicians laughed until they cried. "It's somethin' Picklesh got--Yopo Lite," guffawed Murderface.

"Oh no. No no no no no no," repeated the businessman. "Oh, I'm seeing giant frogs," he said matter-of-factly.

"It's pretty goods, eh?," said Skwisgaar, his nostrils flaring and eyes glassy from heavy tripping. "Just goes with it. Is what I do's."

Ofdensen had to admit he felt pretty relaxed. He loosened his tie and snuck glances at the others. It felt strange to be sitting with them and not babysitting them, not constantly 'on-duty.' "The television just ate my face," he announced to the room. He wasn't used to not having complete control at all times.

"It'sch all right, my scalp ish on that wall over there and my dick and balls are in the hot tub," countered Murderface. All three laughed. "Hey you's not such a dildoes," Skwisgaar said.

"Yeah, you haven't told us to do anything in like an hour!," Murderface agreed.

"Umm..thanks..?" He had another Yopo-laced glass of wine and smiled goofily. After watching botched surgeries on tv and laughing hilariously with Murderface and Skwisgaar he slumped over on the lead guitarist. He didn't know anything for some time.

He became aware of someone poking him. "Ish he dead?," came Murderface's voice from a hazy tunnel.

"Hahaha, I thinks the Yopos fucked him up," Skwisgaar chuckled.

"Oh, now that is the funniest shit I've ever seen," Pickles declared. "I'm gettin' the camera phone."

"I have my face back," mumbled Ofdensen woozily. A few minutes later he realized his head was in Pickles' lap and he smelled something acrid and pungent...the drummer was enjoying a huge joint and sipping at the laced wine. "Where's Skwisgaar and William?"

"They're going to go fuck with the night staff. It's become, like, a ritual with those two," answered Pickles, remarkably sober-sounding. "Some more wine, Charlie?"

"Ah, no thanks," the manager rolled onto his back and undid his jacket, arm dangling off the side of the couch. "I can't believe I'm so fucked up right now."

"It's good for ya," pronounced Pickles, puffing away. "Haven't seen you good an' toasty in like, a decade or more."

"Don't remind me," the other moaned, staring up at the ceiling. "You guys fucked me up like those two did tonight."

"It was that brown acid we was always warned about instead o' Yopo Lite," Pickles chuckled. "It was Tony's idea. He was the smart one, remember?"

"How long have I known you? Too damn long, I think," Ofdensen snorted. He then saw Pickles' face come into his field of vision.

"You're soooo cute," the redheaded drummer chirped. "Lookit you," he put the joint to Ofdensen's lips and then took a drag himself. "Save that lil guy for later," he said after putting out the flame and stuffing it in his pocket. He then laid his long-fingered hand on Ofdensen's face. Then he leaned down and put his lips on the other's, blowing marijuana smoke from his own lungs into the manager's. Next he put his tongue in Ofdensen's mouth for a few long, surprised moments, and pulled away.

"Pickles, what the HELL," Ofdensen coughed expelling the shotgunned weed.

"Yer such a lightweight douchebag," Pickles smirked.


	12. WackedEndingKlok

"Uuuugh," Ofdensen flipped over and nearly vomited on Pickles' shoes. It was a near-miss. There's another job for the poor night staff...

"Whoa whoa hey," the drummer protested. "Watch where you're hwarfin'. Hey. Dood. You 'wake? Don't die on me, now. I'd hate to have a corpse in my lap."

"Ohhh, I'm comin down, Pickles," moaned Ofdensen, running his hands though brown hair mussed beyond recognition. Pickles told him to take it easy. "Take it easy, that's nice of you to say! Now you know how I felt all those years babysitting you and the rest of Snakes N' Barrels."

"And you want me to return the favor, is that it? Well..since yer so adorable all in the fetal position, hahaha."

"You disgusting sinner!," Anya was saying, wagging her finger at Toki's frightened face. "Fornicating with that loose slut! You've done the same terrible thing as me and your father!"

Toki cowered before the verbal onslaught, afraid of...of...what? He looked down at himself, he was an adult now, he'd seen the world and seen it's virtues and vices and met people, good and bad and everything in between. He got up from his knees and saw that he was taller than the shrewish, antiquely dressed woman. Then the anger welled up, and he finally gave it vent. "Shut up!," he exclaimed, and Anja was taken aback. Suddenly Aslaug his father was before him, his stern gaze looming over Toki, frown spreading across his worn features.

"Toki, you'll be punished. If we don't do it, God will, you heathen," the Reverend pronounced. "Repent now while you can!"

"No! Shut up, I don't have to listen to you anymore. Go away!," the guitarist screamed. "Fuck you!" His parents' shadows grew and spread, overtaking Toki and blotting out most light. The austere, spare figures of Aslaug and Anja lengthened and began to dwarf Toki as they advanced on him. He stood his ground, shouting at them with all he could give voice to. Great rips opened up in his mother and father like a rotten quilt, showing the background behind them through the holes. Toki's rage made him grow, equalling the pair in size and he punched out at them.

"Gå vekk! Jeg hater deg! Du har ingen makt over meg lenger!," he screamed, flailing at demons that were no longer there. "Faen ta deg!"

"Toki! Toki, it's a dream!," Judy's worried voice cut through the fog.

The guitarist opened his eyes and peered around the room; his bedroom with its familiar, safe surroundings, and Judy's solid form next to him. "Oi, hva?," he was still confused and shaken. "Oh, Judys," he realized he was awake. He just now noticed the tears streaming freely down his face.

"Toki, are you still havin' nightmares? I thought that was over with now."

"Noes...I thinks they won't be botherings me much anymore."

"Who won't?"

"My's parents."

Next day, dinnertime...

It was thought (by some) that a big dinner be served with everyone visiting in attendance, all seated around a massive medieval/gothic slab of a table. Ofdensen was business as usual, having got over his Yopo Lite incident. Pickles, Murderface and Skwisgaar still couldn't look his way without bursting into gales of laughter which he did his utmost to avoid. Tanya was seated between Toki and Skwisgaar, who kept making eyes at her and purring at her in Swedish. Sam and Keeson were seated together, Sam on one side of Murderface, who wouldn't have it any other way. Judy was on the other side of Toki, giggling at Skwisgaar's attempt at picking up Toki's ex.

The master chef Jean-Pierre set out a banquet to make a Dark Ages warlord salivate, and everyone ate with enthusiasm but Keeson who stared at the Frankenstein-like chef as he bustled about his business. Jean-Pierre threaded though the diners with an expensive bottle of wine, which Sam sneakily put his glass under as the chef went by him. "Uh uh, buddy," Katrina said, denying the child just in time. "Still too young for that."

"Aw, shit," the boy groused.

"Watch the language!," she corrected him.

"Dammit," he grumbled, this time too low for her to detect. Then he showed the admiring red-blond-haired Keeson his newest posession: a blowgun, complete with poison dart ammunition.

"Awesome!," the younger child breathed.

"Check this out," Sam bragged, putting the implement to his lips and blowing with all his might. With a satisfying thunk it struck the arm of a Klokateer, who dropped like a sack of bricks. Murderface laughed while he was trying to chew, spewing food on the table. "You like your preshent, huh?," he guffawed.

"I gots one, too," Toki put in, presenting one of his own. He proceeded to spit it at one of the serving-platters which richocheted and struck another hapless employee, who took another step before collapsing in surprise. The members of Dethklok laughed heartily, while Tanya stared in shock and Katrina shook her head.

"Guys, could be please not have disturbances during mealtime?," asked Ofdensen in exasperation. The blowguns were put away, for now.

"Is this...normal behavior here?," the Norwegian woman asked Toki.

"Jah, it's usually's noisier than this," he said, shovelling in some roasted whole suckling pig.

"I wants a blowgun," announces Keeson.

The next night found Tanya sipping tea in her guest chambers, wrapped in a Mordhaus-provided bathrobe and waiting. She'd placed the devices as she'd been directed to do, having made up her mind at last to do it. Now she was waiting quietly; her son was sleeping peacefully in an adjacent room. A knock sounded at her door and she took her time answering it.

A pajamas-clad Judy stood there, smiling tentatively. "Uh, hi," she greeted the redhaired woman. "Is Keeson awake?"

"No, he's already asleeps," answered the shorter woman.

"Oh, well I was gonna give him this," Judy proffered a small blowgun. "It doesn't have any poisonous projectiles or anything."

"How nice of you, I'll let him have it in the morning," Tanya thanked her. "You've made us both feel very welcome and I thank you for that. It's not my wish to get in the way of you or Toki."

"I know, I was the one who insisted he contact you. I'm glad to have met somebody NICE from his childhood," she snickered.

The other woman chuckled with her. "I'm pretty tired, I think I'll go to bed soon. Thanks again for your hospitality," Tanya watched as Judy left, heading for her own room, and slowly shut the door. She finished her tea, sitting quietly at the desk with papers piled up on it. Then there was a very light tapping at the door. She pulled the door open to find a Klokateer-dressed man waiting, clutching a big mailing envelope. "You are 57?," she asked the man, who nodded.

"These are the results intercepted by the General," the faux-employee spoke, and handed it to her.

She tore it open and scanned the papers inside, her mouth becoming a thin hard line. "Damn. Well, I guess we go with his plan."

The man nodded and departed.

Tanya dressed with a somewhat heavy heart. She found the things she'd been told about the band and Toki in particular hard to believe, but their casual attitude toward violence and mayhem turned her stomach. She also hated being the odd woman out--and you know what they say about a woman scorned. The tiny little metal boxes she'd distributed in various places at Mordhaus served a special function: they disrupted the security field around the perimeter and within a certain radius of the room it resided in, and helped to sabotage the efficient running of the computers from a remote location.

It also allowed a strike team egress into the vast dragon-shaped fortress that is Mordhaus. She removed the credit-card sized communicator from her designer purse and switched it on. "I've done it, General," she spoke softly. "I have the results as well."

"And?," came the gruff question.

"Toki is not the father," she said, and couldn't keep the hurt and disappointment out of her tone. "I can't believe I could still feel pain six years old."

"Just hang in there. When the agents began their strike #57 will get you and the boy out of there safely. Keep the comlink with you." He switched off.

Tears falling she angrily shoved the device back in her purse, snatched the teacup and sent it flying across the room to splinter against the wall. The desklamp followed it as she sobbed her hurt. Everything was always taken from her, it seems, her first love, her innocence, her freedom, her hope for some good luck for her and her son. She felt tired, old and worn-out--she didn't even have the focus to hate that big-boned bitch Judy. No, she didn't hate her, the girl's hill-folk charm made her irresistable. It wasn't the girl's fault, anyway, she was just a kid, Tanya thought. Just a stupid kid who bought the bullshit that Mordhaus fed you...

You still love him, don't you?, taunted a voice in her head.

Shut up!

It galls you to see him happy with a pretty lass while you had to take care of a baby, had to worry about keeping him fed and clothed and safe, had to work your ass off your whole life, and he's sitting in the lap of luxury!

"Shut up!," she screamed at no one, waking Keeson from his slumber. He wandered into his mother's room rubbing sleepy eyes.

"Mommy, is something wrong?," the child asked.

"I'm fine, sweetie," she assured him, wiping her face. "I broke this cup and feel like a fool. Go back to sleep, darling."

Sam awoke to the clang of an alarm, repeating itself over and over. He ran to his mother's room, frightened, red mohawk falling over, and found Katrina on her comlink directing things. "Mom, what's going on?"

"We have intruders, and we're not sure what they're after. The computers and security system have been hacked. but we'll have control again in a matter of minutes."

"But--what'll we do until then?," the ten year old was bugeyed with fear.

"Take care of business. Guards will be here in about 30 seconds and we will fall back to the panic room."

At the same time the members of Dethklok were convening with Ofdensen, who was making sure all were accounted for. Judy was there, yawning. He informed them agents of the Mordhaus DethSquad would be escorting them a few at a time via different routes to the saferoom until the problem was neutralized. Nathan and Judy were assigned together, Toki and Skwisgaar (snort!) were put together, and Pickles and Murderface were paired. Each group had three lethal-looking DethSquad Elites to protect them.

"What about Katrina?," rumbled the frontman

"She's waiting for her escort. Don't worry Nathan, I'm heading that way to check on her and Sam, and Tanya and her son."

"Make sure she's okays!," hollered Toki.

"I just said I will," Ofdensen answered.

"All rights. Just do's it," he finally followed Skwisgaar and company.

Meanwhile...

Agent 57 hustled Tanya and Keeson along the labrynthine corridors, the trio working to look inconspicuous. "We must hurry," he was telling the woman. "After the targets are destroyed they'll torch the place."

"Targets?," she asked, with that sinking feeling.

"Yes, the members of Dethklok, of course. They are to be eliminated."

"But I thought the team was waiting until they reached their safe haven and then blowing Mordhaus up.."

"Is that what General Crozier told you?," 57 chuckled. "He doesn't send his Commandoes to do simple work like that, no, they're trained assassins. Keep moving."

"No, no wait! I didn't want them to be killed!"

"It's a bit late for that now, ma'am. Now move it!"

Keeson looked up at his mother in fear and dismay. He didn't understand much of what was said but he understood danger. "We gotta help Toki, Mommy!," he darted out of the adults' grasp and tore down the hall toward the bandmembers' bedrooms.

"I better be well-paid for this," Number 57 grumbled, chasing the fleeing child and woman while radioing his compatriots.

Tanya was gaining on Keeson when from around a corner came something that she ran into. With her face. It felt like a brick wall and she saw stars. Stumbling backward it took a few seconds for her vision to focus, and when it did she beheld a very angry, very tired Judy glaring at her. "Well, well," the girl snorted, retracting the brick wall fist she'd just used on the redhead. Keeson heard her speaking and ran back down the hallway. "Who's your rat friend?," Judy asked.

Tanya was at a loss for words. 57 pulled his sidearm on her and was knocked aside by an enraged Nathan Explosion, three beefy DethSquad members trailing him. Judy grabbed the other woman by her arm and yanked her with them.

"Hey! Don't hurt my Mommy!," Keeson screamed, running hard to keep up with the adults.

"I'm waitin' for her to gimme a reason to," the raven-haired young woman drawled, her irritation bringing out her hillbilly accent. Tanya wisely said and did nothing to rile her further and was inexorably drawn with the group.

"Shall we kill her, milady?," one of the Squad asked.

"Yeah, maybe we should just kill her. Looks like she's behind all this bullshit tonight. I could be sleepin'," growled Nathan.

"Then who'll take care of Keeson? No, he doesn't have anybody else. Toki ain't his father, is he?," Judy shrewdly guessed. Tanya couldn't speak and just shook her head. "So we won't kill her. For now."

A crossbow bolt sailed right by Nathan's ear, embedding itself in the wall. All heads turned to see two of Crozier's Commandoes armed to the teeth and ready for murder. The Klokateer Elites stepped in front of Judy and Nathan and fired their semi-automatic weapons. "Get down, bitch!," Judy cried at Tanya, hitting the deck and taking her and Keeson with her. The noise and smell of heavy weapons fired in an enclosed space permeated the air, and the boy screamed in terror.

After a lull in the gun battle the guards snapped, "Ok, let's move it! Move!"

They were back on their feet and running to the panic room.

"I'm gettings tireds," complained Toki as they headed toward safety.

"I'm tireds of yous complaining," stated Skwisgaar. He'd made sure to bring his guitar with him. The pair was busy arguing when two of their three guards had their heads blown out like ripe melons. Three commandoes were before them, weapons raised and the remaing Dethklok guard got in front of the guitarists, shooting at the enemies. He took one out before getting bullets to the body and thigh, pitching forward like a sack of bricks.

"Oh, shits," they both gulpeds as the remaining enemies closed on them.

Step, step, step, the assassins took their time closing the gap, relishing the moment. "You knows what? Fuck dis," Toki declares. "Valhalla I am coming!," he roared, charging them.

"Valhalla here I coming, too!," Skwisgaar joined him, raising his prized guitar.

The enemies cocked their guns, prepared to squeeze the trigger. The sound of gunshot cracked a bit too soon, however, and instead of shooting the pair of assassins stood there for a moment, then blood came out of holes in their necks. Soon they were bags of meat on the floor. From behind them stepped Ofdensen and Katrina, the woman with a smoking gun in her hand. "That's my bread and butter, ya fuckers," she spoke grimly.

"My's heroes," Skwisgaar purred.

"Later, Romeo," Katrina said snidely. "We gotta run."

Ofdensen flipped open his phone and dialed, waiting as they progressed down the corridors. "How close are you?," he asked Judy, and he grated his teeth as she told him something else. He affirmed his understanding and told her to keep her communicator on her. Katrina's look was a question, still-hot handgun in one hand, her son Sam's hand in the other. "They're blowing the place," he explains even more grimly. "And the main mission is to destroy all of Dethklok."

"Oh no..," she breathed, big dark eyes looking shocked. "But how does Judy know this? And how could they level all of Mordhaus?"

"It was helped from inside. Transceivers have been set all over the premises, and Special Forces type soldiers are involved."

"But who would betray--?"

"It was Ms. Olafsdottir," he said dryly.

"What? No ways! You don't knows her!," Toki cried, offended.

"I'm afraid so, Toki," Ofdensen countered as gently as he could. "Nathan and Judy caught her in the act, it seems. Judy thinks Tanya discovered you wasn't the father of her son."

"I thoughts she wouldn't be a jealous womans, she told me wanted--"

"I believe her, Toki," Katrina interrupts. "Plus Nathan was there, too."

"But---but...," he sputtered, trying to wrap his brain around what he'd just been told. "Oh fudgebuckets, Judy will kill hers!"

"We just passed the employee lounge," announced Pickles. "Maybe we could stop for a liquor break," he said wistfully.

"Doubt if we'd have enough time," Murderface observed. "Plush shupid Ofdenschen and Katchrina would give us schit." Their guards breathed a sigh of relief when they continued on. "Maybe we schould load up on shome food, though. I might get hungry down there in that room," he turned and Pickles wasn't there. "Aw, he'sh headed for the booze," groused the poofy-haired bassist, heading back toward the lounge.

Pickles was indeed helping himself to the small bar provided for off-duty Klokateers, contented smile on his angular face. A crunch of boot on tile had him turning to toast Murderface--but it wasn't his bandmate. It was three badass-looking soldiers with a license to kill. "Ulp," gulped the drummer.

"Picklesch you aschole," came the bassist's lisp, then the man appeared a moment later, running smack into the commandoes. One socked Murderface in the head with his riflebutt, sending him sliding across the floor on his rump and raising a big lump on his head. "Oww what the fuck," groaned Murderface, rubbing his skull. The Squad Elite came barrelling after, backpedaling when they realized what was going on. All armed parties opened fire on each other, Pickles faceplanting himself on the tiles, but not before clutching a bottle of Jim Beam, which he helped himself to.

Both sides appeared to be wearing bulletproof vests and they soon recognized this, diving for cover anywhere they could get. A commandoe let fly a hand grenade through the doorway, hoping to get the DethSquad member crouched there. A blast and strangled scream followed to let them know the outcome. Another of Crozier's soldiers popped up from behind a table to lay down fire but got pelted in the arm and leg. He went down in a puddle of blood and mangled flesh. "Gotta get out of here..," gasped Pickles, whiskey still in hand. He crawled to Murderface who was whining and rubbing his head behind a metal trash can. "Dood, we better jet," the red-dreadlocked man urged.

The Klokateer Elites remaining drew their swords and rushed their enemies, one managing to slice the hand off his opponent, but the surviving soldier gunned them both down. The maimed assassin busied himself trying to tie off his wound, crying out in pain at regular intervals. The unharmed assassin found his quarry huddled by a large metal trash receptacle, sharing a bottle of Jim Beam. They both glanced up at him in surprise and fear. Lunging up and out Pickles smashed the glass bottle over the man's head, which was protected by a helmet but didn't keep his face from being embedded with small shards of glass. The man staggered back, stunned, then a gunshot sounded.

Mr. One-Hand had pulled his sidearm and was shooting (albeit with poor aim) at Murderface and Pickles who jumped at the noise. Murderface pulled his dagger and Pickles grasped the broken bottle and they ran screaming toward them, intent on savaging them with the implements if they could. The broken bottle ripped a jagged hole in the maimed commando's flak jacket but didn't wound him, but Murderface sank his knife hilt-deep into his opponent's thigh, a splatter of blood hitting him in the face and chest. The one-handed assassin stepped back to get a clear shot when a large, broad-shouldered figure stepped in between the combatants.

He was a weathered, goateed man with long silver hair, wearing a nicely tailored grey suit. He towered over everyone present, even the big soldiers seemed small next to him. The assassins had recovered themselves enough to aim their weapons at him and pull the trigger, but the strange man waved his massive, clawed hand and time seemed to slow and then stop. He next simply swept the bullets aside, pinging as they hit the tiled floor, and then he clenched his fist and the men's bodies seemed to just crumple up, blood spouting out their ears, noses, mouths and eyes.

The two musicians stood there gape-mouthed, their feet rooted to the floor, rendering them unable to move. Then the strange man slowly turned to face them, his dark, ancient eyes piercing their very souls. "I..I've seen you somewhere before..." whispered Pickles, unable to take his eyes off this elderly but obviously powerful man. Murderface just stared in awe, terrified of what might happen next but wishing it would hurry and get itself over with. This man, if human he was, was so terrifying in aspect it made death by being stabbed with dull table forks seem pleasant in comparison. The aura rolling off him and engulfing the room spoke of untold age and amassed wisdom held together by an indomitable, evil will, a will bent toward studying them. Neither Dethklok member felt any ill or evil intent toward them, but squirming under his gaze was not a fun experience, especially after seeing what he was capable of.

"Yes, and you'll see me again," he said in a great, rolling voice that matched his appearance. "But now is not the time for us to meet." He raised his hand, in a great sweeping gesture at the pair, and said soothingly "Forget....forget, young ones..."

Pikcles and Murderface rubbed their eyes and gawked at the carnage in the employee lounge, completely at a loss as to what had taken place. "Brutal," commented Murderface. He felt like something important had transpired but couldn't focus.

"Yeah that's pretty fuckin' metal, right there," agreed Pickles, stepping over bodies and puddles of blood to retrieve a bottle of vodka. "We better get goin, eh?" In fact, the drummer was nervous not only about the intruder situation but something else, too..something on the edge of his consciousness, just out of reach. Something...horrifying.

"We're almost there," Judy informed the rest of the group, still pulling an unresisting Tanya along. "I don't know about the others, though. Dammit."

"What about Toki, Mommy? And Sam and his mommy?," Keeson tugged at her sleeve. Judy shot the red-haired woman a murderous look at that.

"I thinks I have an idea," the woman spoke. All eyes turned to her, she swallowed and pushed on. "I has the communicator Crosier gave me, and I can hack the signal using my son's laptop. So they won't be able to blow the charges by remote at least, and it'll scramble their transmissions."

"Why should be trust you?," snarled Nathan at her.

"Because you run the risk of losing some of your bandmates if they don't make it before the place goes up," she counters, mustering up the courage to look him in the face. They entered the secret passageway which led to the safe room, and Judy turned to Tanya. "All right," she conceded. "Do it, do whatever you can. If you double-cross us again I swear I'll tear your skull off and shit down yer neck. Got it?" Tanya nodded her head yes.

The redhead got out the commlink and began adjusting things, it looked Greek to Judy and Nathan's eyes but the raven-haired young woman watched her like a hawk. Gunfire could be heard ahead; it seems the intruders had penetrated deep into Mordhaus at this point. The three Elites readied themselves for a fight, moving in front of the others to protect them. The guards jumped around the corner, guns blazing, return fire richocheting and driving the others against the wall to keep from being struck. Footsteps sounded behind them and one Klokateer rushed to cover the rear, and they waited. In between bursts of shot they could detect a single person striding purposefully to them from behind.

Then he came into view and all eyes became saucers at what greeted them--a large, well-dressed man making his unhurried way toward the group, long silvery hair falling past his regal shoulders. The Squad member cocked his weapon to shoot this weird apparition and he just raised his hand, palm-out, and uttered "Cease, soldier," and the man froze in place. The two women were for once silent in fright, and Nathan found he was fascinated and almost hypnotized by the huge stranger. The man gazed at Nathan for some time, making the hulking frontman tremble, then turned his deep dark eyes on Judy, who whimpered at the penetrating gaze directed at her. Then he noticed her pentacle necklace and raised his claw-fingered hand to gently touch it.

"Nature's child," he spoke at last, a deep gravelly voice from the bowels of Hell. "I meet Nathan Explosion's daughter at last," and he let go of the pendant and took her chin, lifted up her youthful, terrified face. "From you I see a line of metal heroes, of veritable deities to be worshipped by the common folk." The other DethSquad members noticed the stranger and swung their guns toward him.

"What ARE you?," Judy whispered.

The man uttered something in a different language which was guttural and sonorous, and the assassins' heads exploded like rotten fruit. "Sleep," he said to the Klokateers, and they hit the floor snoring. "That is something you cannot know yet. In time, child, in time," he released her chin and touched her pentacle necklace again briefly. His fingers traveled down her body, and he laid his hand on her stomach.

The girl gasped at his touch. "What--," she began. Tanya was holding her petrified son to her and Nathan could only grit his teeth at this creature touching his daughter.

The apparition turned to the others and spoke. "Forget," he said softly, almost a caress. "Forget..."

Somehow the party made it to the saferoom, and they had no recollection of doing so. Creepy. Tanya hacked into the General's signal and was in the process of disrupting it when several things happened at once, Pickles and Murderface arrived, and then a massive explosion rocked Mordhaus. Then another followed a split second later. Then...nothing. It worked.

After everyone picked themselves off the floor they checked to make sure they were all in one piece, then Murderface screeched "What the Hell wasch that?"

Ofdensen and crew were heading down the homestretch when the first blast occurred, knocking them off their feet. The second explosion hit, and Off noticed something out of the corner of his eye. His head twisted around and he spotted an enormous man smiling knowingly at him. He caught a glimpse of flashing black eyes, then the phantom vanished. Ofdensen shook his head and looked again--if someone had been there they were gone now. "Charles, come on!," urged Katrina, pulling on his arm. What _was _that?, the manager wondered.

Pickles let them inside the panic room, where Ofdensen and Katrina set to work assessing the damage and detecting whether or not the threat was past yet.

Toki spent a good ten minutes frowning at Tanya, who bit her lip and tried to talk to him.

"Bitch, just shut up," Judy snapped at the curvy redhead.

"Tell the child that grownups are talking!," Tanya hissed, exasperated, in Norwegian.

And Judy found she understood! She was shocked for a few seconds until the meaning dawned on her, and for the second time that night her big fist plowed into the other lady's face, laying her out on the floor. Then she glanced at a surprised Toki, who then said in his own tongue, "You understand? But how?"

"I don't know," she said in English. She couldn't talk in Norwegian but she could understand it. What in the name of Odin's bushy beard? Something weird was definately going on.

"Looks at thats, a cat-fights!," Skwisgaar exclaimed in glee.

"Shut up, Swedish meatball," Judy playfully shot back.

"So's....I guesses Keeson isn't my sons," Toki spoke, disappointed. Feeling a bit sorry for Tanya (he had a big heart, after all), he helped the reeling woman to her feet. Her cheek was already swelling and red.

"No, Toki, he isn't. I's sorry. Sorry about everything," she replied miserably. "Don't hit at my face again," she grumbled at Judy.

"I don't think I'll be doing any more fighting," Judy said to that. "Uh, Toki...I'm late."

"Huh?," he blinked.

She put her hand on her belly and smiled. "I'm laaaaaate," she repeated.

"Oh! Oh oh!," Toki cried. "You mean...you ams pregnants?"

Nathan looked from one of them to the other. "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!," he bellowed, then crumpled to the floor in a dead faint.

"He took that pretty well," Ofdensen remarked snidely.


End file.
